Fallout: Silent Struggles
by DeshLune
Summary: It is never easy being kicked from your Vault, but how about adapting to a new world? Struggles fall upon all when you are faced with adversity, over-coming them is challenging. And adapting to the peculiarities are going to either build or break a character. Follow Muna as she explores the Capital Wasteland.
1. Prologue

Prologue: Vault 100

I flipped my long, messy dark red hair through my fingers. I was being reprimanded for breaking a rule. My mother, Elisabeth, is part of Security, and like normal she was the one who busted me.

I broke into someone's room, again. Down here in Vault 100 it is against the rules to do that, even if no one lives in the room anymore. All I wanted to do was get a cup the old bastard took from me before he died.

"You may think it is okay, but you can't just break into a room to… well do anything." My mother scolded. "Why did you break into the room? And while we are on that matter, how did you?"

I smiled at her sheepishly, scribbling something down on an empty book with a half-used pencil. I had a birth-defect, which makes it so that I can't speak or make noise. A faulty Larynx I was told, which resulted in me being mute.

After half a minute of writing I held up the page filled with what I had written. "Old man Jenkins took my cup. I took it back." She looked at me quizzingly. "You… broke in… for… a cup?" She asked, her voice full of concern and disbelief.

I nodded. She sighed, "The rules are clear. You will have to have 30 lashes for this." I could see the dread and sadness filling her eyes. She stood from the rustic red coach, waved for me to follow and trudged slowly to the door.

I sat in the waiting area of the clinic. Blood slowly slipping down my sore back. After I got bandaged I would need to switch jumpsuits, and then repair the one I was currently wearing. The front and legging portions were fine, but the back had multiple shreds.

Gregson the, semi-incompetent, doctor waved a patient away, who left looking somewhat upset. Bad news I could only guess. Gregson then called out lazily, "Next."

I stood up from the completely plastic, except the legs, gray chair. A small creak groaned from the metallic legs. I gulped, I never got along with Gregson. Not since I snuck(broke) into his room, while practicing my lockpicking. I wasn't caught immediately, but after I unlocked a locker in the technician's closet. Well, actually it was because I forget to lock his door again.

I stepped through the door, Gregson was occupied reading some piece of paper attached to a clipboard. After a few seconds he looked up, "No." He shook his head in a troubled manner. "You can't be next?"

I nodded and he let out a groan. "What did you do this time?" I held up the page from when my mother asked me. Gregson blinked a few times in disbelief. "How many times will you break into people's things?"

I thought for a moment, then shrugged. Gregson sighed, obviously not liking my answer. "Look. Why don't I just give you a stimpack, and… I don't know a towel?" I gave him my best, 'are you serious' look as I could manage.

He reached around behind, searching through a safe. After several seconds he found what he was looking for. He held out two stimpaks. "Here. Just take them and be gone." I nodded and reached out picking them up.

My Pip-boy popped up an alert telling me I received two stimpacks. How it knew these things was beyond me. I simply wore it since mom told me to. If it weren't for her pressing I wouldn't have taken it.

I scribbled something on a blank page, before holding it up for Gregson to see. 'Thanks Gregson' I had thought about adding more, but this should do the job. A faint smile crossed Gregson's scrubby face.

"Whatever, get out of here already," I smiled. Turned around injecting the first stimpack, then seconds later injecting the second. I could feel the cuts slowly closing, bringing equaliberty back to my back.

"Hey Mu', I heard ya broke inta Ol' Jenkin's room. Is it true?" My co-worker, and friend, Morrisa asked. I gave her a friendly smile, pulling out my book and pencil before hastily writing something down.

I held up my finished work. 'Yeah, e stole my cup' she looked at me slightly confused, in turn I became confused as well. She broke into laughter while I continued to look in confusion.

"Ya wrote e instead a' he. Ya almos' never make mistakes." She spoke between burst of laughter. I looked at what I wrote, and my face immediately flushed. She isn't mistaken I rarely make mistakes.

"I di'nt know ya were that good with locks." She held up a hand to rub her pointed chin. "Mayb' we can break inta the cafeteria, an' steal us some food."

I shake my head in disagreement. "Ah, why no-"

'Beep beep' a sign that her Pip-boy received a transmission. After fiddling with her Pip-boy for a few seconds, she pressed her face in annoyance. "Sorry, looks like one a' them fool broke somethin'. Gotta go fix it. Ya okay here?" I scribbled a response on a blank page.

'Yes Mor, I'll be fine' she seemed to relax a little before getting up, and making her way out into the hall. Having nothing else to do I laid my head down and closed my eyes. Drifting to sleep not long after.

I felt myself shake. No, I was being shaken. "Wake up." I opened my eyes to see Kyle was shaking me. Kyle is the Overseer, why is he down here in Maintenance. I sat up, and he took a step back. I was feeling aloof, and it showed on my face.

"I need your help," Kyle's voice was filled with urgency. I cocked my head slightly to help show my confusion. "With getting out." I shook my head to wake myself up more, picked up my pencil and scribbled on a fresh page.

'Getting out of what' his eyes slowly read through. "With getting out of the Vault. I want to get out." Now my confusion turned to surprise. I shook my head quickly. "Please," he begged. I narrowed my eyes, while scribbling something.

'Why should I' he must not be good at reading, or he is careful as to not miss anything. "Because… you are kind," his voice full of doubt, and a sheepish grin adorning his face. I looked at him flatly. "Okay… I need someone who can pick a lock or two."

I closed my eyes, crossed my arms, and spun around in the chair. "Please. I… I…" He trailed off, his mind must be racing, yet at the same time being dragged through the mud. I, for some reason, was starting to feel bad for him. I wrote something on a clean page.

Turning back around I show him the page, 'Fine. How can I help' he was agonizingly slow reading. His face beamed when he finished reading. "Alright we just have to pick up a few things first."

-Message corruption-

-System failure to fix corruption. Message lost-


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One: Luck

Alarms blared out around me, I closed my eyes, and covered my ears. The noise was unbearable, but while my eyes were closing I saw a large hand like thing reaching for the giant Vault door. The alarms started after I pulled a handle on a console, but the handle wouldn't work until after I fixed it.

A hand touch my shoulder and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Opening one eye, I glance to the person touching me. It is Kyle the current Overseer, or now really the ex-Overseer He was the person who asked me to fix the console, and pull the handle.

He looked pleased. He wore a goofy smile, mouthing something. I think he was talking, but I couldn't hear him over the alarms. I could only make out a little bit of what he said, by reading his lips. "Good job… we will… head out as soon… opens."

The alarms quieted, not disappearing, but becoming far more docile. I could now effectively take my hands off my ears. Curious as to what he said. I wrote as quickly as I could. Holding up my finished work. 'What was it you said'

Kyle must have gotten better at reading, he finished in far less time than he did earlier. "Good job. I have a few things for you, but first we will work on heading out as soon as the door opens." He pointed in the direction.

I was about to look, when a low rumble sounded out through the room. I looked to the door to see that it had fully opened. And a Pip-boy adorned arm, index finger stretched out, pointed it out. The only thing I could think of doing was nodding in disbelief.

It was a large door, but it wasn't supposed to open. It was keeping us safe from the nothingness outside. So, why did it open? And what did it lead to? Something told me my answers would be answered once I stepped outside.

Kyle ran toward the door's opened hole. I took several steps down the three steps, and worked my way around the arm. Just as I was clearing the arm several people showed up in the room. I could see Morrisa, and Mom. I could also see the rest of the security force.

I stood in the opening looking at the small crowd, who gathered by the railing overlooking the door. A wave of sadness washed over me, it was as if this would be the last time I ever see them. And frankly, it terrified me.

I reached my hand up, to the level of my head, and waved it slowly. This would be the only give off I could do. It was as if, they were the ones leaving. I couldn't tell you how I felt this way, but I did. Morrisa tried to run down the stairs, but an arm grabbed her, holding her back.

My eyes locked right onto the large man holding Morrisa back. Security Chief Mark, the sadistic man, who is in charge of upholding the laws, and bringing down punishment on those who break it. He left a nice scratch in my other jumpsuit, or several scratches.

"Muna what are you doing?" I turned my head to face my mother, and mouthed the words 'thank you' with a sad smile. She looked like she wanted to say more, but she simply looked back with a sad, understanding smile.

I flipped through my one of my older books until I found a specific page, and held it up so she could see. 'Love you Mom' her smile deepened, tears starting to snake down her elegant and beautiful face. She mouthed something, 'Love you, too' I'll admit, tears now ran down my face, as well.

I rubbed my eyes with my arm and sleeve. I turned around to face Kyle, his hand was holding the lever to close the Vault door. I took a few steps, almost making it out, when several loud pops rang out from behind me. Something traveling very fast smashed into the rocks outside the door, after barely missing me.

I did the only thing I could think of doing in this… deadly situation, I froze, wide eyed. Breathing in; I gathered my courage, and turned to face Mark. In his other arm, the one not holding Morrisa, was an out stretched pistol. It looked like it shot 10mm rounds, though I don't know enough about guns to be sure.

He was muttering something about having a five percent chance to miss, and missing four times. He dropped into a stance, one which I knew somewhat. It is how he stands when he uses Vault-Tec Assisted Targeting System, or simply V.A.T.S. I have seen it before. It seems to display the percentage chance for making contact with a target, though the highest is only ever ninety-five percent.

His gun discharged two more rounds, and like the last bit; they flew dangerously close to me, barely missing. I saw him curse under his breath. I finally released the breath I hadn't known I was holding. Turning around, I knew what I had to do.

I heard Mark yell out, in his deep baritone voice. "If you leave, then you will die. Do you not get that the Vault is safe?" I stretched my arm up waving behind me one final time, nodding to Kyle as soon as I was through the opening.

He nodded back pulling the lever. The loud alarm blared from inside Vault 100 one final time, as the large gear door rolled into place. With a loud hiss, and screech, the door slid into the holding position. Closing once again, perhaps for the last time.

"Right. I have somethings for you." I looked at him questioningly. He pulled of a bag he was wearing, I hadn't even noticed it. He opened it up, and pulled out a pistol, several round holders, and a couple stimpacks. "Here… a 10mm pistol, a few magazines and some stimpacks, we don't know what we will encounter, but it is best to be prepared."

I reached out picking up the bundle. I was confused when the Pip-boy displayed a message saying 'Starter Pack received' but my confusion changed to wonder, after it started naming of what was in the "Starter Pack." '10mm Pistol received' then it flashed away, displaying '48 10mm rounds received' finally it told me the stimpack amount. Three, three stimpacks.

I put the stimpacks, and magazines inside of my own bag. I held the gun in my hands, it was far lighter than I thought it would be, though, it was a pistol. I couldn't help, but fear what was about to happen.

We were about to head out into the unknown. A look to Kyle confirmed that he was ready. "There's no turning back now," he sounded so sure, but I agreed. There was no turning back.

Kyle ran out to the end of the tunnel, I followed after readying myself. We raced down the narrow tunnel, held up by metal pillars covered in rust. The pillars were as large as I was, yet taller, far taller. They had to be about two and a half meters tall, or about eight feet.

At the end of the curvy tunnel, Kyle and I found a simple wooden door. Blackness lay on the other side, or that was what it looked like. I reached out, hesitated, braced myself for death, and touched the door. Pushing it open, the sight sent my dinner crawling up.

Kyle didn't seem to be doing much better, but he was trying to be stoic, though his face revealed he would enjoy joining me in lurching out food. He stepped out, he spoke with such strain in his voice, as if trying to hold onto something. "Well, it looks like it isn't certain doom."

After a few moments I had nothing left to lose, I wiped my mouth on Kyle's back. He seemed to enjoy that, his voice sounded girly when he was dancing around going, 'eww.' I laughed, my silent laugh, it was far to amusing not too.

I brought out my book and pencil, scrolling something onto it. 'Why were you in such a hurry to get out' he read it, and his face flushed with regret. "Sorry… I found out a plot." At my curious expression he explained. "Mark was going to have me killed, that would then make him the next Overseer."

"All the access grants that the Overseer has, would go to him, but only if I were to die. A small loophole I suppose." I cocked my head, and he elaborated. "If the Overseer is murdered, then the head of Security gets immediate access as the temporary Overseer."

"He was hoping that, with the access, that he would be able to change the rules to make himself the permanent Overseer. Otherwise, after one week, the next Overseer is selected." I nodded trying to wrap my brain around this nonsense. "I don't know what he was planning on doing, but he can't now." I nodded once more, this time in understanding.

I stepped out of the tunnel's wooden exit, or maybe it is the entrance. The cold steel of the 10mm Pistol weighed in my hand. I was ready to face the outside.

-Transmission Successfully Received-

-Quest Complete: Helping Hand!-

-Level Up-


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Red

Inside my bag I had taken the essentials; food, water, and a spare jumpsuit. I had also brought along a hat, though my Pip-boy marked it as a 'Pre-War hat' I had no clue what war it was referring to, but I could see the land in the lightless room.

It was expansive, I couldn't see the ceiling; walls, or source of possible light, though, far off in the distance Kyle had pointed out a flickering light. Black… stuff floated up toward, where the ceiling should be, bellowing moving sporadically dissipating as it rose.

Kyle was standing up on a rock looking at our surroundings, determining what we should do; where we should go. I should have showered before we left, something told me it will be a long time before I can shower again. Kyle might not be bothered by something like this, but I would have to get used to it.

After a few minutes he scampered down the rock. "We should go check out the light over-yonder. What do you think?" Me? Why was he asking me? I brought out my book, jotting something down, then holding it up for him to see. My confusion evident on my face.

'Why are you asking me' he blinked a few times. He was baffled, yet he shouldn't be, I should. "Because… this is a team effort." He didn't sound to confident, but it was at least sound. I nodded, scribbling something else down. 'If it is safe'

He held his chin, thinking for a moment. "It should be safe, there is light. So, maybe there are people." I nodded. "Alright, let's go." There was a small path heading down, what was otherwise, a cliff. My Pip-boy location marker told me this was 'Great Falls' and that tagged 'Vault 100' as being even closer.

We had walked in silence for nearly an hour, or maybe more I didn't really check my Pip-boy's chronometer. I was silent, because I still couldn't write and walk; but Kyle just seemed like he didn't have anything to say. I wanted to ask him if he was ashamed of something.

The light in the distance was about twenty meters, or a little over sixty-five feet. To make it even easier it would also be close to twenty-two yards. That distance would have to be about a twenty minute walk, or close to it, without my checking the chronometer; I wasn't very satisfied with my time telling.

The 10mm Pistol felt weightless in my hand, or rather I was carrying it for a long enough time, that I simply became accustomed to its weight. My bag has started making my shoulders ache.

Kyle, who was walking in front, suddenly stopped, and my face smashed into his back. "Get down." Confused, and hurt, I crouched down rubbing my nose. I was sure that it was red now. In a hushed voice he continued. "Someone is running this way."

I looked out past, the then also crouching Kyle, and sure enough I could see someone running away from the light. I checked my Pip-boy's Navigational Compass, it has a handy little feature for determining if someone is friend or foe. I doubted Kyle knows about this feature, even if it is constantly in sight.

Yellow marker indicated a friendly person, while a red marked someone who will be less than friendly; or just friendly in a different way. Security Chief Mark was always red for me, though he would never do anything except at "recreational reform."

I could see two yellow markers, and eight or nine red. Kyle and the person running… toward us?! I pulled the pistol closer to my chest, if I was going to use it I would have to keep it close. As mom once taught me, "keep the gun close, and once you have a sight 'jump into' V.A.T.S." why she was teaching a technician how to shoot was beyond me. Could be, since I am her daughter and she worries about me, or it could be that she was wanting me to go into Security.

The red markers from what I could tell were monsters; human, but monsters. They were covered in blood, and practically anything pointy. There was also mud, and dirt spattered across them. It was making me want to shower, and clean myself. I felt… dirty looking at them.

I activated V.A.T.S. from here I had at most a 3% hit chance, and that was on the chest of someone. I dropped V.A.T.S. pulled out my book and pencil, I had to inform Kyle.

As soon as I finished writing. Gunshots rang across the entirety of the room. Those blood covered, filthy monster-people started to shoot at us… no, they were shooting at the guy running towards us. He was only a few paces away, and it seems like he hadn't seen us.

I closed my book, dropping everything except the 10mm Pistol into my bag. The running guy was unarmed, by what I could tell, he was wearing ragged clothing. It seemed as an afterthought type of clothes.

He must have spotted us, his eyes widened, whether it was from surprise or fear I couldn't tell. "Help! They are raiders!" he shouted. Raiders, people who take, often by force. Is he saying that they wanted him dead? Did he take something of theirs?

We had taken cover behind some bushes, and it would save us from gunfire. Kyle darted across the large clearing, which the light emanated from, he ducked down behind a rock.

The guy, who finally reached cover of the bushes I was still in, collapsed, he had several bullet wounds. Me, not being a doctor, simply fished out a stimpack, and shoved it into him.

The group of nine, red markers, were slowly making their way toward us. They were shooting with some-sort of rapid-fire gun, or slow steady pistol shots. I looked to the rock with Kyle, two of the red marker people had guns pointed and firing at the rock.

I activated V.A.T.S. once again. I queued four shots into the closet person to Kyle. A women with awful hair sticking out in nearly every direction, and like the others blood, spikes, dirt and mud covered her.

My four shot purred from the pistol, I hadn't put much consideration into what would happen if I hit her. With 87% shots to her right arm, and two 64% shots to her head; two bullets dug deep into her arm, and one bullet into her head.

She stopped shooting, and screamed while dropping to the floor… she… she died. I killed her. I killed her! Why? Why did I kill her? The reasonable part of my brain told me, "because if you didn't Kyle will be killed by her, there are still more of them," while the emotional part of me said… well that part is just crying.

My ability to use V.A.T.S. depended on Action Points, and they determine the amount of Action I can do while using V.A.T.S. And naturally it takes time for more Action Points to charge.

I scoped down the gun taking unsteady aim toward the second person firing at Kyle. I pulled the trigger; three, four, five shots later the guy covered in spikes dropped.

Kyle stood up aimed steadily down his gun's scope and fired the entire magazine, two 'Thump's two more dead. He dropped back behind the cover of the rock, and proceeded to reload. I had no idea how much ammunition Kyle had, but I could always spot him some if he runs out.

I activated V.A.T.S. targeted the closet person, who was just starting to turn their gun on me, and queued the remainder of my magazine into the head. 95% chance to hit, only two bullets left my gun. They dropped the guy.

Five more red marks, two yellow marks, dotted my Navigational Compass. I could only see four more of these… people. I popped up for only a second using V.A.T.S. to target another's head. One bullet flew, missing barely.

I flicked the eject trigger, and the spent magazine dropped out. I popped in a fresh one. Twelve more shots. I glanced at Kyle. He was emptying another magazine into the group of three more dropped. I jumped out into the clearing.

The last person, I could see, was another female like the first, except far more… bald. I queued four shots using V.A.T.S. all targeting the head. Three shots, and I saw in fine detail her head explode.

Kyle came out from behind the rock. I felt something leave me, and just like that I broke down crying, feeling sick and disgusted. Kyle approached the raggedy man. "Who are you, and why were they trying to kill us?" his voice was firm and steady, authoritative.

The raggedy man, looked at Kyle with that mixture of surprise and fear, though; what he truly felt was beyond me. "Those… things are Raiders," his voice was filled with malice. "They kill indiscriminately. They aren't people anymore, but monsters."

Rubbing my eyes to clear away the tears, I brought out my book and pencil. Holding it up for the man to see, after I had written something. 'Who are you' he sighed. "I am named Anton Kares. The Raiders found me, ambushed me, and tried to eat me… alive." Kyle and I went wide eyed, people eating people. How could anyone do that?

-Transmission Successfully Received-


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Flies

Anton hadn't eaten anything in days, and after the long "night" as Anton put it. We all ate, and drank, around the light, which Anton called a fire. I had heard about fires back in Vault 100, but we had a sprinkler system that would target fires; so I never saw a fire, and no one would ever really talk about them.

It turns out Kyle didn't bring anything to eat or drink, I did, however, I had to pass almost all of it out. Three 'Purified Water's, three 'InstaMash' that would leave me with two 'Fresh Potatoes. By what Anton says, "the food, and water, outside of Vaults are irradiated and not very healthy… without Rad-Away" his words not mine.

Anton scarfed down the InstaMash, and water, then cleared his throat. "The Rad-Away will help clear away any radiation you may acquire. A limited amount, but quite a bit." He said matter-of-factly. "Without it, nearly no one would be alive… well, except Ghouls."

Kyle and I looked at him questioningly. "You… don't know about Ghouls?" His voice was uneven, surprised. "Ghouls are… like zombies-" He looked at each of us. "-right. You don't know what zombies are… of course." He looked ceiling-ward… er skyward. "Well… they are like human jerky, wrinklish… anyway."

"What are Vaults like? I've heard about them, but never got to go into one." He poked the fire with a stick, I had no idea why. I looked at Kyle he was thinking about what to say. I decided to answer the question, quickly filling a page.

'Life in the Vault was as normal as you could expect. Rules, food, and safety. Break a rule, and you get punished. Follow and everything will be fine and dandy.' Anton could read far better than Kyle. I guess Kyle was a bad student.

I remembered about an hour or so ago. How we killed those Raiders, how we looted the bodies afterward. How we took their guns, ammunition, and left the bodies. A couple of 'Chinese Pistol's, three 'Assault Rifles, and one 'Double-barreled Shotgun' with ammunition of varying types.

I got to keep the Double-barreled Shotgun it wasn't in the best of conditions, but it would work for closer ranges… as Anton had said. Anton took the three Assault Rifles and took them apart, replacing them with a single better conditioned gun. He gave them to Kyle, and had Kyle give him the 10mm Pistol and ammunition for it.

"So, why is it that I get this rifle thing?" Anton smiled at Kyle's question. I looked between the two of them, waiting for the answer that Anton might give.

"Well, Mister Kyle was it?" Kyle nodded. "You shoot far to wildly, therefore a gun that shoots rapidly will work far better for you, Mister Kyle." I had to admit: that sounded reasonable enough.

Kyle sighed. "Just Kyle will work." I wrote in my book. 'What is wrong Kyle, don't like being a Mister' he read at his slow, agonizing, pace. "No, it isn't that. It's just… just that I don't want to be that…" He stopped looking for the words to use.

"Formal." Kyle gave a 'yeah that' in agreement. "It isn't strange for you to think that-" I checked my Navigational Compass. I was still seeing a red mark, along with the two yellow of the two sitting close. I stood up, shouldering my bag, walking in the direction of the red mark.

I made it a few feet before Kyle and Anton asked simultaneously. "Where are you going?" I simply looked at them, before turning away heading back in the direction. "Should we follow?" they asked each other simultaneously.

They left earshot, whatever decision they reached I wouldn't hear. I run my finger along the Shotgun slung on my back. It was not in a good condition, but it should shoot all of the ammunition I have for it. In my other hand: the familiar weight of my 10mm Pistol.

I hadn't a clue how much further away the red mark was, since the Navigational Compass does not show distance or height. It was up to my eyes. Past the small clothe structures Anton called tents, another clearing with bushes, rocks and some other type of rock.

I made it a few more steps, checking my Pip-boy I found far more red marks. I brought my Pistol up, ready to take on whatever maybe there. I could swear I heard some sort of buzzing coming from the other side of a small land rise.

I climbed up the land rise, the buzzing piercing the air, I steadied my 10mm Pistol in both hands aiming toward the buzzing. I activated V.A.T.S. targeting something called a 'Bloatfly'- how it knew what they were was beyond my understanding -I queued all four attacks on the closest one. From my crouched down state two bullets flew into the Bloatfly smashing into its body, the third bullet missed entirely.

From its flying position it dropped like a stone to the ground. I aimed as well as I could targeting the heads, or bodies. I emptied the remaining bullets in the magazine; three more dropped, one wobbled through the air.

As if only now noticing me the remaining five started flying toward me. I activated V.A.T.S. once more queuing one shot into the wobbly Bloatfly, and three into another. The wobbly Bloatfly dropped, and three shots later the next one joins.

I carefully aimed down the sight once again. Firing off the last of the clip I managed to take out two of them. The last one sent some type of goop flying through the air at me. It struck me, like a bolt firing out of place under high-pressure, it also burned, like when my hand got near the fire.

I silently scream out in pain, the pistol slipping out of my hands. Before the last Bloatfly can hit me again, I pull out the Double-barrel Shotgun, and put both 12 gauge shots into it. I saw the thing explode in my sights.

I shuffle through my bag to pull out one of the two 'Fresh Potatoes munching it down, as I sling the Shotgun on my back, and pick up the pistol. With pistol in hand, I head down the other end of the land rise.

I start looting the bodies of the 'Bloatflies' because unlike Humans, I can handle looting bugs without wanting to curl up and cry. I found about a dozen, or so, Bloatflies littering the floor… ground. Weird, because I only killed nine of them.

In the clearing with the Bloatflies I found the body of a man; he was wearing the same type of armor that the Raiders were wearing. The only difference was that this man wasn't covered in blood.

It made my stomach lurch when I checked him for anything of value. I couldn't carry the armor back, or rather I didn't want to undress him… that would be… rude? Other than his armor, I found that he had some more 10mm, 12 gauge, Rounds; as well as some 'Dirty Water' and a book called 'Guns and Bullets' I dropped everything into my bag.

I slowly trudged my way back to the fire, to Kyle and Anton. I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was lie down, curl up with my knees and cry myself to sleep. First, though, I would have to get back to the warm fire, and ask where a safe place to sleep is.

A short while later; I found Kyle and Anton laughing about something. They were sitting where they were when I had left. When they noticed me they asked simultaneously. "Are you okay?" Then they glanced at each other breaking into laughter again.

I jotted down a reply holding it up for one of them to read aloud. 'I'm tired. What is with all the mirth' Anton was the one who read it aloud. "We were just talking that's all."

Kyle nodded in agreement adding. "If you are tired you can lie down in that tent there." He pointed toward one of the tents. "We cleaned it out as best we could." I put my hands together next to my cocked head, hopefully they will understand. "Um… are you asking where we will sleep? Or-"

I nodded quickly, and clumsily. "We will be in the that tent there." He pointed toward a second tent. I waved my hand, turning toward the first tent. "Sleep well."

I pushed the flap over, long enough so that I could pass through. It was somehow darker in here than it was earlier. I set my bag and guns in a pile next to a stained mattress. I didn't even want to know what the stains were made of.

It felt wet under my jumpsuit, there wasn't even a blanket, but I wasn't cold enough to need one. I griped my knees loosely, and after the first tear fell; I felt a dam burst, because after that first one it didn't stop.

-Transmission Successfully Received-

-Level Up-


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Scuffle

I was stirred awake. Looking up to see who it was I found Anton. "Hey, how long are you planning on sleeping? It is almost lunch." He pressed his face a little closer to mine, I could feel his breath, I could also smell it. And wowie was it bad smelling. "Have you been… crying?"

The sleepiness I had been feeling until then washed away, replacing itself with fear and humiliation. I turned away, hugging my knees while sitting there. As if sensing he did something wrong Anton sighed. "Sorry… I didn't mean to humiliate you."

He walked out of the tent. Some supernatural light flooded the room for the briefest of seconds, and I found myself temporarily blinded. When the light left darkness flooded the room, then everything returned to normal.

I stood slowly, finding my joints aching, my eyes were heavy. I felt tired weary and all around exhausted. I shook my head, if I could speak I would have said. "Snap out of it, Muna." But I can't talk, so I thought it.

I picked up the Double-barreled Shotgun slinging it onto my back, pulling my bag on, and finally lifting up the 10mm Pistol into my hand. I gazed toward the flap covering the exit out of, or entrance into, the tent.

One, two, three steps; three steps and I had reached the other side of the tent. It was small, small compared to my room in Vault 100. Somehow this tent was cleaner than my room.

I shook my head. I needed to clear the old days away. My focus should stay on the here and now, possibly even the future. It should lie toward the uncertainty of what the future shall bring, and will bring.

I swiped my hand under the fabric doorway. Moving my hand across, sliding the thick dirty fabric to the side. All at once a blinding light shattered my vision, it must have taken minutes before I could start to see.

I used my arm to cover my eyes, while I stepped into the next room… er, to the outside. I walked around still unable to see perfectly, whatever was making this light was painful. I look to the sky, far up there I see a large light bulb.

Something brushes my shoulder, feeling jumpy I point the Pistol in the direction. Kyle's voice shoots out. "Woah, watch where you point that, it is just me." I let the Pistol drop to my side, still in my hold.

Using my other hand I rub the back of my neck, and put on a face that I hoped said apologetic. I dropped the Pistol into my bag, opting for the book and pencil. 'Sorry, it is just hard to see with all this light'

Anton, standing near where the fire had been, lets out a mirthful laughter. "Guess this is your first experience with the sun then." He moved closer holding something in his hands. "It wasn't very long ago that I saw the sun for the first time."

I had been writing while he was talking, and I showed them what I had written. 'Anton. Who are you really? For someone who was shot at while defenseless you are taking it quite well' He smiled in return, not the happy, kind smile, but the sad, tired smile.

He started to fiddle with whatever it was that was in his hand. "My name is Anton Kares, though… that wasn't what you were asking. Was it?" I hesitantly nod. His smile adapting a hint of warmth. "Until yesterday, I was a slave… my master said that once she died… that I would become free."

"Here," he shoved the thing he was fiddling with into my chest. "That belonged to my master, but I don't want it… so you can have it." '.44 Magnum Revolver received' "Oh, and the ammo for it." He held out a couple of dilapidated orange rectangular boxes. '24 .44 Magnum Rounds received'

I smiled at him, my smile being filled with kindness and warmth, but also something he might need most… understanding. 'Thanks' I wrote. He set his hand atop my head and rubbed it back and forth for a few passes.

"I don't want to see it again… that is all." Kyle who had remained silent glared at Anton, I could see suspicion filled eyes adorning his cynical eyes. He grabbed Anton's wrist pulling it off my head with a rough jerk.

"Keep your hands off her." I looked between them, I felt trapped. I felt helpless, and confused. Why was he mad? "You better remember that too. Otherwise. I'll have to shoot you."

Anton jerked his wrist out of Kyle's grip. "You can if you want. It wouldn't be the first time that I was shot. It comes with the trade of being a slave, a piece of property."

I stepped between them pointing in opposite directions. Directing them to move in the direction with a stern glance at each of them. With a gruff they trudged in the direction I pointed, respectively.

I made my way into the tent once more. I was going to change, and having those two watching would be… creepy. I was going to change into my spare Jumpsuit, it is more of Security Armor. Mom gave it to me as a fourteenth birthday gift, though it was several years ago I kept it.

Anton can have my muddied, sweat covered Jumpsuit. It would be better than those rags he was currently wearing. I slid the zipper down, before pulling the cloth off of my shoulders. A rustling sound came from the door, when I turned I saw a dead man… Okay, he wasn't dead but after I put two 10mm rounds into his torso, he very well could be.

Kyle held onto his new gut. I could see his face, two things spoke out the most. First his dinner was wanting to crawl out in a brutal fashion, maybe with some blood as well. Second he looked like he regretted opening the tent flap. The first was something I knew well from yesterday… minus the possible blood.

I was frozen… I-I couldn't move. How could I move? Would I want to move? Something shot of next to my foot, snapping me out of it. It seemed that in my fear I accidentally dropped the loaded gun, which is never a good thing.

I pull out a stimpack, quickly pumping it into the reddening man. The bleeding has lessened, though dark days lay ahead of him. By dark days I mean his blood has darkened, I'm no expert, but that might be good. I pump another stimpack into him, just for good measure.

I finish swapping into the Security Armor. I hand Anton the Jumpsuit I was wearing until now. He lurks near the entrance of the tent or a good ten seconds, before turning and walking away wordlessly. To I assume change into the new, better, clothing.

-Transmission Corrupted: Data May Be Lost-

-Quest Complete: Anton Shmanton-

-Level Up-


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Raiding the Raiders

Kyle wasn't talking to me. I couldn't blame him, what with the tension between us. I could swear that it was 20mm thick. Anton gave us his Stimpacks saying, "it is better if you hold onto them."

We can't stay at this camp forever, we are already nearly out of food. I have a potato, and several Bloatfly meats. Kyle was laying down in the other tent, while Anton had changed clothes into the 'one size fits most' Vault 100 Jumpsuit.

Anton walked out of the tent. "We should go get some supplies while he is out… what do you say?" I looked at him flatly, and shrug. "Is that a yes?" I hold up my book.

'Where' He nods, "not far from here." I hold my book up again. 'Where' He sighs, "it is some railway station." I blink a few times. "With train cars?" He paused briefly. "You… do know what train cars are… right?" I shook my head. "Well you'll find out when we get there, we should go now."

'Down there' Anton nods, he was higher up on the ledge. We were overlooking a large compound; several orange, red and yellow large metal boxes attached by some type of coupling link. A metal grabber hooking the smallest sides.

"Yes, they are bound to have food, ammo, and hopefully some type of aid." It is my turn to nod. I ready my Pistol, dropping into V.A.T.S. I count seven in range, with another ten out of sight. I drop out. Writing in my book.

'There are about 17 of them, or maybe more' He audibly gulped, swearing under his breath. "I thought there would be a lot, but seventeen or higher… it may be to risky." I climb up to the higher vantage, hand him a note, before starting to make my way down.

I barely hear him say. "Are you kidding?" I shake my head. 'Stay here. I'll take care of it by myself' was written on the note. He doesn't need to help if he is afraid. I should be able to take care of the entire thing myself.

At the end of a steep incline, or decline, I found a boulder, as Anton called it, which would give me excellent cover. It stood just over two meters, or seven feet. Its girth being well over four meters, and close to fourteen feet. All in all; one large rock.

Once at the large rock I crouched down. From this position I could take out a few of them without drawing all of their attention. I peeked out from behind the rock, I could see three boxes conjoined by the coupling links. Patrolling on top, and one between the far and middle cars two Raiders female and male, respectively.

I activated V.A.T.S. targeting the two, two shots each. The female Raider had a 53% chance with each shot, while the other had 74% of a chance for each. I was targeting the torso, it would be easier to hit after all. With a soft 'pat' purred from my gun four times.

The closet Raider, the male, holding a rustic knife dropped. I quickly free fired one last time on the female. She dropped too, none of them were any the wiser. She had been holding some type of rifle.

I followed around the rock, until in a gap between the closet, middle coupling link I saw another Raider. I waited a second before hopping into V.A.T.S. to target the 77% chance torso shot, three times. 'Pat, pat, pat' the force knocked him down dead. His strange pistol flying out of his hand.

I silently bade my way to the rustic, dirty red box. I took a peek around the putrid metal. A Raider with some wooden stick was standing preoccupied with something. On top of a make-shift building I could see two more, and on top of another set of three boxes; also several scattered around the ground.

I think the count for how many there are has gone up to about twenty, but I got the feeling there were even more. I took a blind shot at the stick holding Raider, it missed and he looked around confused. While reloading I was continuing to scan the Raiders.

The stick was called a 'Pool Cue' and the person holding it had on some weird mask. Unless I picked it up and let my Pip-boy identify it, I wouldn't know what that white face was. His armor, Raider armor, was like many, many others. Covered with spikes, blades and blood.

With a new magazine, a fresh magazine, my 10mm Pistol was ready for action. How many more could I take out stealthily? Not many I would bet. I peered around the nice edge, V.A.T.S. activated. 87% chance to hit, it should only take two -maybe three- hits to kill him; three shots queued up, naturally aiming for the chest.

My gun purred three times; the first shot making contact the second missing flying into a wall, and the third finishing the deed. A large brutish man with a rifle of some type, shouted out in alarm. "Muck- Dandelion is shot, 'nd dead. Someone betrayed 's."

A large, overly large man with sickly green skin stepped out of a large green box. In his, hideous, large hands he held a .44 Magnum Revolver. I had a bad feeling the longer I looked at him. Something was off about him, and for the life of me… I couldn't place it.

I wasted no more time, I turned and made my way to the opening with which the coupling link would be located. From there I spotted the humongous man making his way over to Pool Cue Raider. Crouched over the man, inspecting something. "'ese 're 10mm 'oles."

He looked around seeming to spot what he was looking for, and also more. "Jorgie… wha' 'out Orie righ' 'ere?" Orie? He couldn't be talking about… he was, and he was on his way over to the opening. While he made his way over to the opening, I made my way out of the near open.

Orie seems to be the name of the Raider with the strange pistol I killed moments ago. "'e was a'so 'illed 'ith a 10mm roun'… Jorgie. Wha' 'ype of 'pon d' you 'se?" I could picture the Raider named Jorgie gulping, and I swore I could have actually heard a gulp from here.

"Ugh 'unting Rifle." Following seconds after that a loud not hidden pop range from the other side of the box. "You shot 'er!" I guess the big Muck just shot another Raider. That would make my job easier.

If they start infighting, then I can sit back and wait. Then finish off the remaining. With loud steps I heard Muck walking around, risking it, I went back to the coupling link gap. He walked to the far side to a larger building, on the way he shot another standing on the other set of three boxes.

Inside the large building, which was passed two other smaller buildings, a moment later another shot rang from his revolver. Six cylinder gun, two fired. I'm sure that Muck has extra somewhere, I need to find it when I finish.

Muck strolls over to the farthest, right-most, metal gloom box of a building. He stays there for half a second, then moves over to the center-most building. I could hear another shot.

If that is the power of the pistol, then I don't want to use it. Muck takes a few steps outside of the building. "'Ey Butter'up, pop o'er ugh 'ec." I see another female Raider stick her head out to peek down from the top of the building, and with a single 'pop' of the .44 Magnum Revolver her head was no more.

Her emptiness toppled over the edge landing at Muck's large green feet. He spat on it, kicking it with his rippling muscular leg. After spitting on it once more, he stormed back into his box. Whatever he was he couldn't have been human.

Enough of that, though. I had a… job to do? Well, Raiders to kill, and cry about later. The corpse of the male knife holding Raider wasn't very far from me, and having a weapon for close range could never hurt. Silently I crossed the distance to the corpse, regretting every second of it, I looted the corpse.

I gained a 'Knife' two 'Rad-X' and a 'Med-X' I had no idea what they did, but I was going to keep them… they sounded important. I left the bottlecaps, I had no idea why several people were carrying bottlecaps. Perhaps it is like a good luck charm, though, Raiders don't seem like they want to have anything like luck.

I put all of it into my bag, leaving the bottlecaps. I slowly perused to the big orange box-ey thing that the Raider's corpse was by. The female had some type of rifle, and I was going to try to get. I found I was bad at climbing, I didn't have the physical strength to lift my full weight, plus extra, up.

So, instead, I snuck my way back to the nice rock. I needed to drop off some extra weight if I was to do anything more. After setting my bag down, I took out all the ammunition for my 10mm, and Double-barreled Shotgun. When I looked up I saw Anton sitting there quietly, wordlessly, but he had a sad look in his eyes; or a well hidden nervousness, one which, he is trying his darndest to hide.

'What is it Anton' he shook his head. "You don't have to do this." 'We need the supplies, besides if we clean it out well enough, then we can use it as a base. On second thought let's just keep using the tents' his sad smile returned. "That would be better, yes."

I stood up, staying silent will take to long. I was sick of dealing with these dastards. If putting them down would make things better, than I would have to do just that; and if any of them surrendered, then they could live.

I walked calmly to the red box-car, I think it was called, then proceeded to walk past it. Now in the open, before any of the Raiders could do anything. I queued all four shots in V.A.T.S. picking two targets- three on a Raider holding a familiar Double-barreled Shotgun, and another on the roof of the center-most building. All four shots purred out of the gun, three killing the Raider on the ground, and the last punching the one on the roof.

I free aimed a few more shots killing the one on the roof. Not wasting time I sighted a Raider, male normal Raider armor, holding a large, very large, gun firing the remainder of the magazine into him. I ran back behind the box-thing, reloading my last, half filled, magazine for the 10mm Pistol.

A woosh resounded from the other side, and an ear deafening rumble, which shook the room -ground- caused me to stagger in place. Luckily another didn't hit, I was uninjured, but I was having a hard time hearing. I turned in time to see a Raider with a knife charging me.

I immediately popped him with three shots with V.A.T.S. assisted targeting. I didn't have any peace, as the Raider with the big gun was aiming right at me. I managed to activated V.A.T.S. once again. A single bullet was all I had for him, and it seems it was all he needed.

I had targeted his head, unlike the other times where I would target the torso, and on contact with my bullet. It dissipated into a small puff of red smoke… or may be steam? Either way I had three shots left, and I was now needing a plan.

"Got it," I wish I could've yelled. I checked the corpse of the new knife user, something called a 'Frag Mine' on him, and a few 10mm Rounds. I eject the current magazine sliding the Rounds neatly in it, before popping it back in.

I heard a multitude of muted footsteps, or softened since the deafness I was facing. I quickly ran back to the rock a meter -or two- away, or six feet five inches give or take. I round it, finding my bag, and no Anton.

I search the bag pulling out my acquired Knife, placing it tactically in a strap of my armor. Something, most likely a bullet, slams into the rock right next to my right arm. I swing around pulling my Pistol to bear, firing the remainder of my magazine into a female with a hunting rifle, a male with another type of pistol, and another knife Raider.

All but the knife Raider were brought down by the barrage. The Raider was now running right at me laughing mirthfully, while grinning maniacally. I brought my fist up, once he was close enough I activated V.A.T.S. taking the 95% chance to hit I queued up all three punches for the full charge.

I swung wide nailing her right in the jaw, a soft crunch came from her jaw, the next punch swung low with a left jab striking her abdomen. The final punch another jab, but to the throat. After the decisive hit, she griped her throat attempting to get air. A moment later she was turning a strange shade of purple. She died minutes later, but I didn't bother waiting.

It took a half hour, give or take, to finish the rest of them. Muck was the hardest to deal with, I was still feeling the sting from when his bullet scraped me. It ended up a fist fight, though I had kept the Knife hidden to use as a finisher.

I was now out of ammunition in everything except the .44 Magnum Revolver. Now Anton was looting the place, while I rocked back and forth in the fetal position. If one ends up feeling nothing after killing a group of twenty-five, then they would have to be monsters. Right?

-Transmission Successfully Received-

-Quest Complete: Don't Muck around!-

-Level Up-


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Fall

It was cold out, and my cheeks were wet. Never a good combination. It was starting to become night again. The sun, as Anton calls it, is supposed to be a large gas sphere made up of elements like hydrogen. And after some time the hydrogen depletes and the star collapses, but that was all in a book I had found and was using to settle myself back down.

Anton nudged my shoulder, and so I closed the 'Big Book of Science', I had been finding it a fascinating read. I put the book down, something told me I shouldn't take it with me… besides most of the pages were stuck together. "Come have a look at this."

I give a slight nod, but did not move. He nudged me again. Finally I haul myself to a standing position, hung my head low, and followed Anton somewhere. He leads me to the furthest, and biggest building; continuing over to some metallic box with a lock on the front.

"It is a Gun Case… I think you will like what is inside." I look into his eyes. What was he trying to hid? Those saddened, tired eyes revealed many things… but I felt like I saw myself in them, or what I could be.

I spent some time messing around with the tumblers, lining them using a bobbypin and my screw driver. A 'click' later and I opened up the case to find a long rifle. I picked it up, my Pip-boy marked it as a 'Sniper Rifle'; I also picked up 15 '.308 Caliber Rounds'.

Anton poked my shoulder, he had left me alone to work and now returned. "Hey… there is something else as well." I wordlessly stand and he leads while I follow. He leads me to Muck's large single use terminal… why a big green man would have something like this was beyond me.

I clicked the button on the bottom right side of the terminal, and the faint whine rose from the arcane device; seconds after the screen flashed to life, words instilled onto the colored screen:

WELCOME TO ROBCO INDUSTRIES (TM) TERMLINK

I somewhat knew what to do from here, I started tapping on the rustic keys:

SET TERMINAL/INQUIRE

Words and letters mixed with a few digits, I couldn't begin to comprehend the meaning of, appeared:

Rit-V300

Well, maybe I exaggerated a little, but I continued to type away at the keyboard:

SET FILE/PROTECTION=OWNER:RWED ACCOUNTS.F

SET HALT RESTART/MAINT

Now things jumbled up the screen, I didn't care, it was taking me to the next place that I would need:

INITIALIZING ROBCO INDUSTRIES(TM) MF Boot Agent v2.3.0

RETROS BIOS

RBIOS- 52EE5.E7.E8

Copyright 2201-2203 Robco Ind.

Uppermem: 64 KB

Root (5A8)

Maintenance Mode

I didn't understand half of that… I also didn't know what copyright was. Perhaps some type of special program, I don't know. I was almost done:

RUN DEBUG/ACCOUNTS.F

The screen changed displaying a new message:

WELCOME TO ROBCO INDUSTRIES (TM) TERMLINK

Logon Admin

ENTER PASSWORD NOW

The screen flickered and switched again. I managed to crack the password… it wasn't very hard with a password like 'MUCK'S'. I checked the files on the terminal: something about a shipment, security checks, and finally something about needing to check out a strange burst of light off in the west.

Nothing seemed important, but there was something about a slave trader establishment that I noted to visit later. It seems that Muck had routine shipments, delivering merchandise, to the slave traders.

"Hey, I found some supplies what should I do with them?" I turned toward Kyle, his arms were full of random things- I'd call them junk, but I was learning there isn't really such a thing as junk in the wasteland. Everything can be used to save oneself; with the right knowledge, and aptitude. It was amazing.

'I'll carry those, so just drop them in my bag' I didn't wait for an answer, turning back to the screen. I was about to push the button to turn it off, then I noticed: there was a file on there that I didn't notice before. I opened it up, it seemed to be some sort of letter, reading:

Muck,

a hidden military channel has received some usage for once. You are to find the envoy, and dispatch of them taking the package. Drop off the package at the usual place,

-K.

Muck… has a boss? Muck. Has. A. Boss. The big over-the-top behemoth of muscle and destruction, has a boss. Who? Who could possibly be his boss? There couldn't be anything bigger than Muck… right? That would be insane.

"I have your bags. Are you ready to get back to the camp?" I pushed the button and the screen faded away; as with the button and screen, I push the thoughts out and away. I sling the Sniper Rifle, and my newly acquired 'Hunting Rifle' onto my back, while my 10mm Pistol rested in my hand.

The Magnum Revolver lay in my bag. I wouldn't dare use it, it would be overkill. The amount of power a single bullet has can explode heads, severe limbs, and simply and utterly kill.

I take my bag from Anton, opting to simply throw it over my shoulder, instead of pulling it on. I felt weighed down, I seemed to have put on a little weight, and I couldn't wait to drop it. It… has to be-

"Wait," Kyle waved his arms about frantically, "you. You. Went and fought how many Raiders? Alone?!" I pointed to the piece of paper I had been holding up, 'around twenty-five Raiders' how he missed that was unbelievable.

Seriously, it was written in plain english. Sure, it was slightly sloppy, my arm was still shaking from the fight with Muck, yet, it was still better than what I've seen him write. My writing was angelic, and heavenly… while his was… was messy, and all over the place.

"So… you just waltzed right up to a camp of Raiders?" I shook my head. "What is it then?" he wasn't sitting anymore, but pacing near the fire. With another wave of his arms he speed into a tent, it looked like my tent. He emerged after a few brief minutes, "I can't… I can't believe you," he shouted with a subtle hint of sadness. "You went without me… I can help!"

Did I hurt him? Not physically. I already knew the answer to that, but why was he in anguish? I jumped off the log, walked right up to Kyle, looking up to his face the entire way over. He was easily two heads taller, I poked his chest. His confusion was far too apparent.

I hugged him, trying to pull him closer, but his thinness was lead-like. After a few long seconds, to my chagrin, he slowly pushed me away; my apology denied. The hug, which was meant to fix everything, failed, and I was now at a loss. A loss of ideas; a loss of action; a loss of what I could possibly do.

"Go to bed… you must be tired," Kyle's voice was anything but kind. But I listened. I listened and went to my tent; the damp putrid smell of the bed flooded my nostrils as I rested my head on the crusty pillow- what could possibly cause crust?

After a few, horrible, moments I was able to briefly fall asleep. I dreamed. A dream of blood, a dream of death… a dream about those I killed. I was saddened, but strange enough… I was relieved. Relieved of, some mysterious weight that seemed to be hanging on my shoulders, a weight I didn't know about, until I dreamt my dream.

But the thing most prominent from the dream was forgiveness. Forgiveness for my sins; mother always told me killing was a sin. Why I was forgiven is something I don't understand; I took life, the thing that is considered as the most sacred thing in this barren land.

When I awoke I wish I could have screamed, it was terrifying at the same time. All the gore I saw was worse than anything Raiders could think up. Feeling frightened I slowly crawled out of the bed, my bones felt creaky and sore. I was going to be feeling that for a while.

I brushed my way past the tent flaps to see Kyle and Anton arguing and pointing in the sky in different directions. Running my hand through my hair nervously I approached them, if Kyle was still mad then this could get bad… not the shooty bad, or I hoped not shooty bad.

I don't think I have it in me to shoot anyone else for a while. I turned my attention to what they were arguing about. "No, if Raiders attack here, which they will, then we need to erect some sort of protection; like I don't know a ditch, a wall, anything is better than nothing."

"Mister Kyle, that would be foolhardy. We are not needing to stay here much longer, and if we are, what need do we have to protect some smelly larvish pit?" Anton proclaimed pointing behind his back, off toward where I fought Muck. This simply made Kyle furious, he was pointing back to 'Great Falls' and I could only assume he wanted us to do something there.

As I got closer my boot kicked up a rock, which flew through the air lightly tapping a metal container, which disposed of its contents to the hungry dry ground. I could see steam as it wisped upward quickly dissipating into the air. With that little noise both, Kyle and Anton, turned toward me.

'What is going on?' my paper asked through written language. It had taken a few minutes to calm both of them down long enough to finally get time to write. Holding the next page I finished my inquiry, 'Why are you two fighting?'

They both shifted in their seats to look away from each other, Kyle took a small pleading glance at me. What he was pleading wasn't clear, and I expressed that with cocking my head slightly. In response Kyle sighed and turned his back.

I had no right to judge him for his decision, not after shooting him; and while he may be upset about being left behind, that was a decision I stand by. I switched my attention onto Anton, who, by what I could see, was fidgeting a little restlessly.

After twenty seconds of silence -I counted- Anton wasn't able to take it any longer. "Alright! Fine, you win!" he threw his arms up, shouting out in a defeated tone. Just as confused as I was a moment ago I looked with a quizzing gaze.

Kyle, now seeming to be angered, practically jumped up from his seat. What I couldn't have missed was the 10mm Pistol in his hands, before any rash decisions could be made I started to run.

Within seconds I covered the meters out of the camp and past shrubbery. My hair flowed behind me like a red-wave, the wind rustling in my ears and through my hair. I was covering ground, and quickly at that.

I could hear Kyle and Anton yelling something about slowing down, but I ignored them. They would fight if I stopped. So I ran, and ran. Past rocks, and onto some sort of raised platform over some flowing water. Halfway across this platform I could hear a slight whining noise from above.

When I looked above me I saw a large hunk of metal sailing through the air; though after a few small seconds it was hit by something, and a rather large explosion shook the flooring beneath my feet. Several more seconds and several more small things smacked into it. A dark black smoke began trailing after the falling metal, a screeching whine became much more distinct as it drew closer the the floor… er, ground.

The… ground shook again, but at a greater intensity, as the hunk smashed into the ground. A low grumble, before whatever it was exploded; not into pieces but there was an explosion like one might find in the reactor room after Anthony has been sneaking liquor early in the morning. During the time I sat there and gawked at the whole scenery. Kyle and Anton were able to make it to the platform as well.

"Why… did you… run off?" Kyle asked in a huff, working on catching his breath. I squinted slightly toward the crashed-thing. My eyes grew wide as I noticed something out of the ordinary. I reached for my book, but found it missing.

Dropped? I dropped it? Impossible. I never drop it. No, I left it in my bag; which I left back at the camp. Before my mind could race more something touched my shoulder, which caused me to jump, as I turn to the source I see Kyle. He had the look as if I didn't hear a word he said. "What are you looking at?" Anton asked from behind Kyle's right shoulder.

I point toward the metal object, but more specifically at the Raiders surrounding it. Across the platform I could see two female Raiders with wild haircuts running toward the others carrying those large guns from Muck's company, which made explosions.

Before either of the other two could react I took off sprinting for the other side where the thing came down, and the Raiders gathering for some reason. I made it back onto the dirt whipping out my 10mm Pistol and emptying the magazine into their backs.

Quickly reloading I activated V.A.T.S. taking aim at the group filled with ten to forty percent chances to hit. So I queued up all my shots into the highest chance and fired the gun four times. I was incredibly lucky with my strikes, three smashed into his chest, but the last smacked into the metal with a small hollowed clink.

I scanned the area around me for cover, upon noticing a large rock several meters in girth and a little shorter than me. I ran for the rock diving down onto my stomach in the dust and began to reload.

I looked behind me to see that Anton had then caught up and was firing into the group with his own gun, which was the same as mine. He took down two; a male with bloodied hair with a Hunting Rifle, and someone who looked quite the same, with the same spiked armor, though he had an Assault Rifle.

I could also see that Kyle had caught up and was mowing down several with a few lucky shots by, still not V.A.T.S. assisted shooting, firing wildly into the crowd. He held the gun near his waist; like someone who didn't want to hit any of their targets.

Once I had finished reloading I could hear one yell, "get down!" I fired a few shots from the side of the rock, but only one was able to hit him. I pull up V.A.T.S. one more time. These Raiders had almost no armor, or clothing for that matter, and their weapons were of such poor quality that they might explode if fired.

The three of us empty the remains of our magazines into the nearly-gone group. When the bullets cleared only one was remaining. I started to reload, but it made no difference. Someone shot the Raider when his attention shifted to us, it seems like they were after whoever this was.

I motion for Kyle and Anton to regroup using some eccentric hand motions, and a few facial expression; but based on their reactions they didn't understand. Rolling my eyes dramatically with more vex than one should, I started out from the rock's cover and made my way to the man.

As Kyle and Anton shuffled to catch up to my brisk walking I studied the man. He was close to six feet tall, or about one hundred seventy-nine centimeters; he had brown hair with several electric blue streaks, which had a slight curl in the back.

He dropped his gun, "alright, I give up. Don't shoot me," he surrendered, his voice was accompanied by a slight accent, it had almost made me misinterpret what he had said. Slowly he raised his arms. His right arm had some weird metallic like appearance; as if it were removed.

When we drew close to him, he turned the rest of the way, and I could tell he must have been out here a long time, well much longer than I. I also noticed a scar running, mostly, diagonally along his face. Who was he? What did he want?

Friend… or foe? But most importantly. I hoped I didn't have to kill him, I was getting sick of killing. How could I go about dealing with this safely without needing to kill anyone.

For a few small seconds we stared at each other, our eyes locked and unmoving. Until finally I had a plan. It was great, people wouldn't die, and it might patch up my problems with Kyle. I glanced at Anton, who seemed put-off; like he knew this man. But I cracked a small smile. I had a plan, and I thought it was a good one.

-Transmission Successfully Received-

-Quest Finished: This Mad World; Drops from Above-


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Charades

"Who are you?" Kyle asks with caution. I nod in agreement, we will need to know that information, and this is one of the best times to do so.

"My name is Blake, and I come from a Vault; just like you," the man answers. He carries an undertone of fear, and complacency. He must think we are dangerous. That is easily misconstrued and our clothes should only back that up.

I point to the metal-thing that lies behind, but he seems to not notice. My smile lowers a little. Blake turns to the metal-thing - which might possibly be something very dangerous - and reaches an arm into the smoking and flaming wreckage; but not before tearing away part of the sleeve off his bizarre arm.

A moment later and his arm came free, a bag in one hand, fire on the other. This strange tall metal man quickly pats the fire out. I barely hear his swears. I poke Kyle gently, but he just glares at me for the briefest of time before returning his attention elsewhere.

In response I puff my cheeks, and turn my head from him. Curiosity draws me in again as I check what Blake is doing. He has moved to a rock nearby, and has started to browse through the contents of the bag.

He pops something open, smiles, then closes it again. Unzipping another portion, he begins to search for something. One of his hands seem to be moving sluggishly as well, yet it hardly slows him down. I could tell he found it when his hands stop moving, and he sighs in that relieved kind of way. As he pulls something out I quickly take stock of it: long and skinny with a pointed end, which break into a fine point at the end, and a thick shiny handle - a screwdriver.

Taking it in his normal hand he jams it right into his bizarre arm, but not in that dangerous way. It was sane and methodical - calculated even - yet it carried the air of caution. I was fixated. Why was he doing that? How is he doing it?! I continued leaning closer.

Even closer I drew, until I started falling. Flailing my arms about I barely caught myself - a moment later and I would get dirty.

Dirty... how long has it been since I last bathed? I must be incredibly dirty by now! With my newfound realization I shuddered. If I stay like this, then I'm no better than one of those... those disgusting Raiders covered in all sorts of grim and viscera on a day to day basis (now that I think about it, I know nothing about how they normally operate... I'll have to learn more later).

I throw my arms up in an exaggerated manner. Not bothering to see if the others saw; I begin to march off. Past the rock. Past Blake, then Kyle, then Anton; just somewhere away. I needed a bath, severely at that, and at this point, I don't even care where I'm going - not until I get this figured out.

I continue walking, without looking back towards the others; all I knew is that I had to get away for a little while. I should investigate that metal thing later, perhaps it will prove fruitful if I can figure out more about this place. Right now, I am just some ignorant wanderer looking for anything that may prove beneficial - which is hard enough to find.

The rocks shift under my weight as I tread along the decline of the water. And the night sky was starting to become clouded; that will make it far more dangerous to traverse. Besides, it isn't like I-

A red bar on my compass? But wait… now it's green? This is so confusing. Why can't it just make up its mind and stay one, that way I know how to approach it?

I slouch, shake my head, and shift closer to the ground in the hopes of quieting my steps. I squeeze the hold of the pistol, and gently bring it up - ready to fire if needed. I quietly move closer to the figure, which is humanoid, and jump into V.A.T.S. to see my hit chance; the highest being seven percent on the torso.

I drop V.A.T.S. and shift closer. This was getting dangerous, hopefully they aren't armed; they're clearly Human. I won't have a problem hiding, either, as the entire area is covered in thick brush and rocks with girths of about one and a half meters (roughly five feet [technically just under]) and standing anywhere from one to three meters high (roughly three to ten feet [technically under ten]).

With another glance, I could see a few more bars - all red - so I move behind a nearby rock, and peek out once again; several weird quadrupeds with feelers and a fat, tubby body and two large, sharp teeth. They were a light brownish color, I think, and… ugh… I took a hand off my pistol and plugged my nose.

Why do they have to smell so putrid?

"Get away!" a feminine voice calls out accompanied by a 'thwack' sound. It seems that the female has some sort of blunt instrument - I wonder what it is - and is using it to fend off those things.

I opt into V.A.T.S. and set five rounds into two of these 'Molerats'' heads. With a sixty-seven percent chance on the first one, the three rounds all smashed home, and the quadruped collapsed; however, the second one - with a seventy-nine percent chance - remained unscathed.

I quickly popped four more rounds by eye, and it, too, collapsed. The last one was safe behind the 'thwacker'. I ducked in my cover, and waited. A few seconds later, I could hear another 'thwack' and a whimper; as well as a rapid footfall which cued to running, and based off the volume, it was leaving.

"That's right, you better run!" her voice was strained - she must not have wanted those Molerats to have died. "Oh, yeah. Hey, come out… wherever you are."

It seems she doesn't know I'm here. But why is she moving close? "It's okay, I won't bite." Why is her grip getting tighter? Her bar is green, at least for now. Might as well show myself before things turn sour.

Slowly, I begin to get up and out from the safety of my rock-cover. My pistol an ever-present weight in my left hand, and with my right hand, I wave to the taller female. Now that she is just out of arm's length, I can see her in even the most minute detail.

Her skin gently reflects the moonlight, but I could easily make out splotches of muck - which stuck out against her otherwise 'perfect' skin. My eyes wander over the rest of her figure, before I snap my eyes up to her hair - and what a mistake that was (How does someone have nicer hair out here, especially compared to mine?) - which is tied loosely into a low-ponytail.

"Thanks to you, I managed to make them run away. But why did you help me?" Her stance is relaxed, but there is an underlying tone which suggests she is ready to spring to action at any moment.

Now that she asks, why did I help her? It couldn't have been anything that required such a forceful intervention on my part. She might have gotten hurt, but by the looks of it, she had the whole situation under control. If anything, it was because I was passing by and saw the red bars.

"What. So you won't tell me?" her voice is much lower in volume. I hold up my right hand (held in a fist) while keeping the palm inward before scissoring my index and middle fingers a few times. "You… want me to walk away?"

Of course. I shake my head, "Then what is it you are suggesting?" I rub my chin. What's the best way to put it? "Can't you just tell me, it would be quicker?" I shake my head. "Why?"

Based off the others I've met, she is far too trusting (or perhaps kind). I point to my throat, then try to make a sound - only my breath can be heard - while moving my mouth in the form of words (like I see others do so often); hopefully, it is enough to give her the idea that I can't talk.

She blinks a few times, and sets the tool into some kind of sheath before lightly-pounding a fist into her opposing palm; her expression read as that of recognition. "I get it!" through an added flair, she points a slender finger towards me, "You have a sore throat!"

I shake my head, it's about the only thing I could do. I point towards her, and she straightens, then I making a swinging motion before overacting a faint; then, I point to myself and place an open palm, with all my fingers held close together, and exaggerate a scanning motion, before acting exasperated and point my pistol and pretending to fire.

All the while, she is just watching and nodding with her chin in hand. After the longest of pauses, she finally exclaims, "You can't talk!" I nod my head. "And you noticed that someone was getting kidnapped, so you thought you would save him?"

I could only stand there and blink away my disbelief. I repeat my actions, and she watched intently; like before, there is a long silence before she comes to one of her wild conclusions, "You were with some friends and after being ignored, you decided to storm off without a second thought, and during that time you saw that I was in a near-one-sided fight with those rats, so you thought you would lend me a hand; after shooting two, the third ran off, and without actually knowing me, you hide until I started to approach you?" Or not…

I give her an affable nod, "Wow! That didn't take too long~!" she singsongs. I fix a cold stare towards her, "Oh! Lighten up, you'll sully that cute face if you scowl, you know?" I turn and begin walking (she said I was cute!) away; based off the sound, she decided to follow, "Hey! How about I travel with you for a bit? My name is Addison. What's your name?"

I jump over an outcropped rock, "Wait. You can't talk, that's right." She walks around the rock while tapping a finger on her chin deep in thought, "How exactly are we going to talk with each other if you can't talk?"

I'd prefer a fight with some Raiders over this… and, naturally, I found several red bars in my navigational compass. Addison peers closely at my Pip-boy, her eyes glazed with curiosity, "What is that?" I decide to steer us away from the bars by heading down the nearby slope.

It was hard to see from above but there is quite a fluent amount of water running through here, and it wasn't very fast or loud. Addison tried to not get her feet wet, but that would be hard to do in this 'stream'. How would I explain what a Pip-boy is to her without my book? It would be easier to just wait until I get my book, again.

We could talk after we have slept some, and that would be back at the tents. I point to her then myself, before making a sleeping gesture with my hands. "You want us to sleep together?" Vigorously I shake my head… well… maybe just a… no. I continue shaking my head. "Relax. It was just a joke. Where are we going anyway?"

I point in what could almost be an arbitrary direction after checking the auto-map. The compass told me we were heading 'west'; if I remember my reading correctly, that was like heading left when facing 'north'. And if the map and navigational compass are correct, then the water flows 'south-east' - whatever that means.

The rushing liquid feels like ice slowly numbing all feelings, it is easily one of the colder things that I have felt during my lifetime. And every step was becoming harder and harder to commit; as if a layer of weight was slowly being pressed down upon my muscles.

"This is very cold, I had no idea this was here, but we should hurry to the otherside. The mud seems to be clinging to our shoes, and if we aren't careful, then we might sink into it," Addison explains, clear worry in her voice.

With an affirmative nod, I quicken my pace as much as I can. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have gone over that one overhang, instead of marching through this… stuff.

After what feels like minutes, we reach the bank, and slowly, but surely, we begin to climb the messy surface. Addison is the one who makes it up first, and while I pull myself over and on to the steady surface, she is busy wiping herself down - trying to get clean.

I could start heading back to the base immediately, but instead, I think I'm going to stay here a moment and catch my breath. The fair skinned Addison seems to have had the same idea, as she is bent over - hands on her knees - readily breathing. I copy her pose as best I can, it isn't very comfortable.

We've walked for most of the night and the camp is quickly coming into view over the veranda. "Is that where we have been heading? It looks… um… wonderful?" she only sees it as the old Raider camp, which isn't wrong. One of these days we should really get it cleaned.

She runs on ahead, and I decide to head straight for my tent so that I can pick up my book. I catch Addison sitting down next to Blake out of the corner of my eye as I push the tent flap away. My book, and subsequently the pencil, are lying out on the bed, which seems to have been cleaned some - I think torching it would work better, it's how we cleaned the dead back in the vault.

I throw the 10mm Pistol down and pick up the book. I hope she can read. I head out the flaps, and am greeted by Addison moving far too close to Blake. The next thing I hear is the soft 'thump' of my book hitting the ground.

-Transmission Tampered: Data may be changed-

-Optional Quest Began: Seek Anguish-

-Quest Began: Aiding Addison-


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: You, Human

Addison smiled as she continued to talk with Blake, but it wasn't just any ordinary smile. No. It was a 'I like this' kind of a smile. She clearly was liking what she saw, yet he tried to pull away, but it was easy to see that he was just as interested.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I watched as they continued to talk; eventually, I'd grab my book, which I had dropped for some reason, and wiped it off - small specks of dirt fell with each pass of my hand. I turned back to my tent; Kyle was standing tall just watching me with an apathetic stare.

I held up a page from my book, I didn't need to search for it, as it was the first page; it read like this, 'What?' so simple, yet, a question that was needed for knowledge and understanding. Kyle shook his head, "It's just odd to see you care about their conversation… you seem," he rubs the back of his head while thinking, "I don't know… desperate."

At my questioning gaze, he elaborated, "You generally show an interest in the world around you, but for their conversation you appear as if you truly want to know. Um… that you want to be close… I'm sorry, I'm not sure how to say it." He walks roughly a meter and takes a seat at a log, and I decided to follow after.

I sit down at the log and write something in my book, holding it up for him to read. His eyes go wide and he shakes his head, "No… I… I don't think I could do that… even if I had no other choice." I write something else, but I don't show it to him. "Look. I know that is has been hard on us all, but you really should trust in us to help you."

I flipped to a new page, 'I do trust you'. He laughed in that unamused kind of way, "You certainly don't act like it. You rush into danger and you act as if you have to do everything. You are not alone." He stands, "We are here with you, so the least you could do is allow us to help."

Is that how he feels? I reached out to grab his hand, perhaps to comfort him or for some other reason. He took a few steps forward, "I'll be going to bed now." And before I got the chance to do anything more, Kyle practically ran to his tent, and seconds later he was gone.

Am I really that bad? Do I just… run headlong into danger? I don't remember rushing into things, I've always gone with a more thought out approach. Then again, I did run off when Blake showed up. Maybe he does have a point. Maybe I don't really trust them.

I shook my head, now is not the time to dwell on such matters, though I don't have anything else going on. I head back to where Blake and Addison were sitting, they seem to have gone quiet. After a moment Addison got up and started towards one of the tents, it wasn't mine.

Blake stood up, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and went off to the south - towards a collection of 'trees' and small tree-like-things. He disappeared behind a collection of the things and most likely continued deeper in. I'd have to follow to see what he is up to in there.

I hastily run into my tent, grab a gun, and sling the double-barreled shotgun over my shoulder - immediately I am greeted by the 'thwump' and the familiar growing weight. I follow after Blake but I keep my distance. It doesn't take long before I am able to find him.

He is sitting on a big rock - roughly two meters in girth (roughly six point five-six feet) - and just shorter than his leg at the bend. I watched as he disassembled his rifle and began to clean each piece with a fluid motion, one that suggested familiarity - he must do it often, maybe as a tool for thinking and calming (meditative I believe the term is called).

Not far from the rock was a long stretch of a slight decline on the veranda, much like that frothy, sink-y water from earlier. Blake, on the other hand, continued to clean and maintain his rifle; after a few minutes, he laid it down across his lap before gazing up. Even from a distance, I could see the reminiscent slouch and the tired sag from a long day.

I sat down, myself. And, using what I saw, I began to take apart my own gun. Or at least, I tried to take it apart for cleaning; but I found the need of proper understanding. And that was something that I just didn't have for such an activity. I wished that I could sigh, so that I could sigh - instead, I opted to just shrug my shoulders.

When my attention returned back to the resting man on the rock, he sighed, and began to mess with his freaky arm. It could open up! Would he be able to detach it?

I shake my head, and lightly slap my cheeks. Now is not the time to be discovered; now was the time to watch and learn. I could try talking to him, but I'm trying some advice from a book I read eight years ago. It was an odd little book, and it talked a lot about 'boys', 'girls', and something known as 'bees'.

The book's advice read like this: 'For those uncertain about the nuance and subtlety of interaction with the opposite sex, it helps to remember these tips; never chem their drinks, use polite language, watch and understand your special bee before you make your move in for the sting, and finally, only sting when you are ready and you feel that you are properly knowledgeable.'

Perhaps this is enough observation for one night. I sneak my way in the direction that is not-Blake, and I found myself heading, not towards the camp, but towards the Bloatfly field (as in, the field I found the Bloatflies).

As I stood upon the hill that overlooked the vastly-shifting field, I could barely make out the small silhouettes of the Bloatflies as they buzzed about the air. There isn't any harm to shooting these, right? Kyle can't get mad if they are super small and aren't able to do any harm.

I skipped my way down the hill and into the plain, pulling out my shotgun as I go. I flick the safety to 'off' and hop into V.A.T.S. and targeting two Bloatflies, and fire; the first Bloatfly explodes into a mess of messiness, and the second one staggers as the slugs penetrate and destabilizes its flight. Without dropping a beat, I smack it out of the air with the butt of the gun, popped the chamber, reloaded, and locked it.

The swarm was already closing in, and their stingers were sent flying before rapidly regenerating (through popping out) into place. Several flew by me as I took aim at the next pair, manually, and with the squeeze of a trigger, the recoil shook me, but I steadied and fired the second round - two more targets fell. I quickly reloaded.

If maintaining his weapon is Blake's way of finding peace, then fighting was my tranquility; there wasn't any other place that I could feel so… so peaceful, clear, and incontrol. And what about Kyle, what was his peace? And Anton for that matter.

I began searching the Bloatfly corpses for anything different, other than a few bottlecaps (lodged in their stomachs) I couldn't find anything. And why are there so many bottlecaps throughout this place? It's as if I can't go anywhere without finding at least one bottlecap.

After exerting myself as much as I have done, I'm ready for bed; so I head back to camp, only to find Anton waiting for me. "You know, it doesn't help him if you continue to put yourself in dangerous situations because you are unsure about how to deal with a problem? One of these days, you'll have to deal with something, and by then it may be too late for him."

I flip to the page I should Kyle earlier, yet Anton gave no clear indication that it had any effect on him. "Yes. I've done it before and I could do it again. You learn that out in the Wasteland, you must do what you must to survive. Friends are helpful, but they may betray you in the end or when it matters the most. It is better to hold a reliance in yourself, while keeping others away - except your friends. Allow them as close as you wish, but be warned: the closer they are, the harder it is to lose one."

I flip to another page, it reads 'Who are you'. I flip to, yet another page, it reads 'Tell me about it'. I cross out 'it' and put 'you'. Anton laughs a little, "I believe I've already told you about myself. I was a slave until that raider attack, and thanks to the two of you, I was able to get free. But… I suppose you are asking about the me before slavery."

He turns and gazes up, "I was a scavenger. I'd go from place to place collecting as much as I could to sell. Using that, I was able to make enough that I could afford food, generally only when I wasn't able to find any. And I never had to worry about ammunition, as I was able to find that during my times scavenging through structures of the old world." Anton inhaled, "It's… enduring to think of the time I could have saved if I only took the safer routes and made less; I'd be safe and I never would have become a slave, but I most likely wouldn't have been able to do all the things that I wished to have done."

He turned back, and it might have just been me but I could see the beginning of a smile tug across his lips. "I think I better head to bed, you should as well. There will most likely be a long day ahead of us 'morrow." And with that he headed for bed, leaving me alone to my thoughts and troubles.

I trudged back to my own tent and began to account all of my equipment and remaining goodies. Starting from the equipment; a knife (something that would be used for cooking), my 10mm Pistol, the Double-barreled Shotgun, a .44 Magnum Revolver, the Sniper Rifle, and a Hunting Rifle. My ammunition seemed to be in far less supplies; whatever is left in the magazine for the 10mm (which I counted about six rounds), three 12 gauge rounds, thirty .44 Magnum rounds (which I don't plan to ever use… still), twenty .308 Caliber rounds, and twenty-three .32 Caliber rounds. As for general goodies; my pre-war book, a pencil, my cup, seven Bobbypins, a Guns and Bullets… book?, eleven Stimpack, and twenty-seven Bloatfly meat.

I began to align everything alongside my bed, or store them away inside my backpack. By the end, I had it like this: in the pack; 10mm, six Stimpack, my cup, six Bobbypins, the Guns and Bullets, and several of the Bloatfly meat (I then managed to press the Hunting Rifle so it ran parallel to the ground) - then for the bed; everything else. I carefully placed a Bobbypin in my hair where it wouldn't easily be found.

With a 'Splosh', I flopped onto the bed. It was time to sleep - I didn't even bother taking the armor off - and while it might take me some time, I was going to do it. Anytime now…

There are times that, even when the world is against you, you must get out of bed; I had one of those mornings - where everything seems to want to go against you; all the talking outside had woken me up, and I wouldn't have been able to stay asleep, even if I wanted to.

After a few minutes I got out of bed and headed for the others. They were all gathered around Addison and she was explaining something - or rather she had finished explaining something.

Anton saw me and decided to come over to explain things. He immediately started telling me about something… but I decided not to pay attention; instead, I was focused on what to do today. When I heard "-and she was separated from them and we might be able to help take her back." I was able to decide what to do.

We were going to help her out!

-Transmission Successfully Received-

-Quest Updated: Aiding Addison-


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: Don McSlim

I turned to Anton, he was looking at me expectantly, and gave a simple nod; his eyebrow arched, but he didn't say anything. And, while I should, I didn't care to know his full response. Turning back around, I made my way back to my tent and through the flap. Once there, I begin to pack for the journey ahead. Into my bag, my additional ammunition for the hunting rifle and shotgun, as well as my book and pencil, the remaining stimpacks, and some of the meat from the Bloatflies - I wonder when they sour? - and that book I had started some time ago (Guns and Bullets).

Slinging the bag, I pick up the hunting rifle, placing it so that I may still move unimpeded, while putting the double-barreled shotgun right in the bag - the stock still sticking out; before picking the 10mm pistol off the dirt, it only had half a clip, I will certainly need more ammunition. Finally, I place my combat knife into my boot.

I heard a rustling from behind, by the sounds (crunching and shifting of soles against the rocky earth), it was someone coming to check on me; looking back, Addison brushes the flap with a sort of practiced ease, "Muna Shear?" I cock my head, I must've also cast a glare, as she quickly waved a hand. "No, no… um… sorry. It is just that I talked with Kyle, and he told me about you."

I should have kept the book out. I point to her, tilt my head, before waving my index and middle fingers; hopefully, she will understand what I am trying to tell her: 'you should move on and get to your point'. She just sat there, staring, eventually, after what must have been minutes, she spoke up.

"I just wanted to see if you were ready…" of course that is what she wants to know. I nod curtly - she has very lean legs. "That's a relief, I'll let Blake and the rest know," she says innocently.

With that, she heads back out, most likely to inform the others. I take a moment to find some place to put the 10mm, before following swiftly after. Outside, I find everyone gathering near the eastern-edge of camp, furthest from my tent; clearly, they did not want me to hear anything. At this point, I wouldn't blame them; at least I slept a little.

Strolling over, I spot them making more plans. All gathered around a crude piece of paper, faintly resembling a map of the whole area - my Pip-boy has a better one - with a few locations marked in red or blue; the red is marked as 'avoid', while the blue is marked as 'supplies', yet, much of the marks are to the East and North, very little South, and almost nothing to the West, in fact, there is a solid green line a few miles to the East - a 'do not pass' mark.

"She's here, alright, now we can begin," Addison says, waving me over. After a moment, I comply, finding myself next to Kyle - he seems to be fidgeting and unable to stay still. "Right, so I believe we are right… here-" she points to a mark on the map, it looks similar to in terrain, "-we need to snake our way through the valley to get here," her finger runs along the map, eventually landing on a spot to the South-East of the camp. "Any objections?" she asks, a hint of hesitation and doubt underlying her, otherwise, even tone.

Everyone looks to me, I shake my head (why me?). Everybody seems to relax, almost as if they were uncertain about what I was going to say. I mean, it isn't like I have a reason to not agree with the plan.

"When are we leaving?" Kyle questions.

I check my Pip-boy, before pointing towards the South-East, then shaking my wrist and adjusting my bag.

"That was… helpful," he remarks; he had a bag, one far larger than my own.

Anton tosses something right at me, not hard, but I definitely didn't fumble trying to catch it - I definitely didn't need to rub dirt off of it - turns out, it is a box full of 10mm rounds. "If we are all ready, then I believe it would be now."

Addison hastily rolls up her map, puts it into a pocket, and grabs hold of her baseball bat. That is as far as I saw, I begin walking South-East. "Wait!" I turn my head and she starts explaining, "There is a highway we can follow, it will be much smoother and safer travel than a direct path." I just sit down in defeat, I'll let them finish; they can drag me behind, too.

It must have been an hour or so of walking, yet we only made it a fair distance. Addison led the way, while Blake followed along closely behind - like some fierce, loyal animal of old. While meeting minimal resistance, an occasional Radroach, but otherwise it has been completely quiet, and, for some reason, that just feels wrong; like, there needs to be something, anything.

Luckily, we managed to get close. We found a raised platform, much like the road we have been walking upon (I found out later that it is known as an overpass), and Addison waves us forward; though, off in the distance is something far more interesting than the collective path forward: a monolithic stone structure.

I stop in my tracks, after a few seconds the others notice. "What is it?" one of them asks, I point towards the structure. "You… want to go, don't you?"

Nodding, I receive sighs, before Addison pokes in, "I don't much care, it isn't like there is too much to do right now." Without waiting any longer, I start the relatively short walk over to it. Turns out, the monolith was farther away than I thought, and it was quite far out of the way; but we already started and there is no reason to turn back.

Scanning the structure, I can see the bullet ridden, rough walls, and clear evidence of a fire - judging by the charring - and the slightly concaving ceiling. Columns run along the side, each a set distance away, two of which had collapsed into heaps on the ground. This building has weathered the years, and may last long after we go; it is amazing to think about, something built lasting as long as it has - no repairs and no rebuilding - when I think about it, it is nothing short of a marvel.

Three sets of doors ran along the front, all secured in small-squared concaves. I am the first to the door, and, subsequently, the first to open them. At least, that is how it should have gone; but, instead, I nearly had an intimate moment with the cold surface. It is rather natural, I always locked the hydraulic metal door to my room, so, of course, this place is locked - tightly at that.

Luckily, there happens to be a keyhole centered on the leftern-most side of the door. I found myself kneeling and picking at the lock before I had a chance to register what I was doing. The lock is very tricky, I don't think I can do it, at least not with the amount of bobby pins I have with me.

After the fourth one broke, Addison wanted a shot at it; she has her own method, it doesn't work any better than mine. Kyle takes a shot, and, expectedly, it doesn't do any better - he hit it with a rock. Anton tries once Kyle gets tired, and, surprisingly, it fails as well; but, then again, bashing it with the butt of the gun isn't the best way of dealing with it.

For some reason, I found shadows prancing across the earth, something that, I'm pretty sure, wasn't there to begin with. Anton and Kyle give up switching, and I need to keep my bobby pins for later, in case I need them for anything. Which means that it is now Blake's chance to give this a shot, maybe he will be able to bust it open; otherwise, we will just have to move on - and where is the fun in that?

Blake really shows himself as… forward-minded; like, really… moving forward… with his mind. After taking a few steps back and dropping a few of his things, he ran right towards the door - not wanting to watch the pain, I turn, and a loud thud rings out and dust (or something similar) blows out, quickly dissipating. Luckily that did the trick, the door was opened - never to be closed again.

We slowly file into the large, cylindrical-esk foyer - okay, it was more octoid - a large desk spanning much of the center, terminals and papers cluttering the surface and spilling onto the floor, while several statues, flowers, boxes and crates, and… bones. A strange, red distribution-machine with the label 'Nuka-Cola' stylized near the top sits in several positions around the foyer, one resting next to moderately sized column, which connects to a catwalk or perhaps an overhang - it is hard to tell.

Walking around, I find that the terminals are all non-functioning, and the papers aren't too interesting; though, one catches my attention. Picking it up, I scan it over; a flashy title, and several neat columns, each with their own catchy title. My eyes center on one of the less flashy and messy columns (an 'entry' as it were).

It read like so:

 _Grey State's Major: a Communist, Traitor, or Hero?_

 _We all know the infamous 'Grey Massacre' of September of this year - 2077; it came as a shock to everyone. The early-morning print came out that fateful day - the news that, seventy-three individuals were mercilessly shot on behest of the Grey State's Major._

 _As with all atrocities, this is being looked into by the good folks in D.C. and Virginia. And while that investigation was underway, we (the Free Reign News) have done some investigative journalism of our own; inquiring and questioning the kind folks at the Bunker, the Major's family, and we tried to get an interview with the Major himself - to no avail._

 _According to our research, several interviews, and our sources - which were all very thorough - we have come to this conclusion about the Major: he is an idealist. Someone with independent beliefs; someone who cares for the average man, woman, child, and everything in-between, but so morally skewed that he cannot see past his own preconceptions._

 _His stark and zealous beliefs are matched only by the damned Reds, whom we all know will burn by the end of this war. The Major is a man of inconsistency: he believes that everyone has the capability to do what they want, but that only those with power can attain anything; we are only Human, mistakes will be made and made again, however, the good Major has shown a fanatical aptitude at making mistakes._

 _Without further ado, a Tribunal shall be gathering to conclude upon the actions of the Major, and to confer whether those actions were just or not. The case will be started in four days, on the twenty-sixth (26) of October; tomorrow, the Major will be taken in for confinement._

 _Hopefully, we will get the answers to our questions, and find out the truth. This has been Douglas Irvine, of the Free Reign Press' Journalism Department; may the Stars and Stripes never sway or fall!_

Folding the paper, I place it into my bag, and move towards a plaque on the wall; it held information about the building, the year it was 'constructed', several names for something, and a picture of what it used to look like - before time took its effect.

Finally moving towards the red 'Nuka-Cola' machine, I fiddle around with it, before hearing a distinct 'thud'; checking near the bottom, I find that it has dispensed a bottle - I'd bet Nuka-Cola, if I were the betting type - and pull it free. Popping the bottle's cap off, I toss it by the machine and take a swig; it tastes oddly like pomegranate and carrots.

I remember the one pomegranate I had, I was very small, and it was for my eighth birthday. It was meant as a pick-me-up; not that it worked all that well.

Shaking my head, I walk, drink in hand, to a door, or rather, a doorway; once I step inside, I hear the whirl and whooshing, and, before I could attempt anything, the door came screaming shut. Not even ten seconds later - I counted - Blake was yelling from the other side. Pulling my left foot back, I kicked the door with about as much force as I dare to put.

The ringing told them I was still alive. They begin to yell something about the door being jammed or just not opening, and that I was now, effectively, trapped on this side of the door; unless I can find another way around. However, perhaps it would be wise to just move on.

A stairwell sat only a few feet away, no other way to go; which means I might as well just go down. Taking to the stairs three at a time, I quickly found myself at the bottom, and I quickly found something ripping, and barring through my protective vest. I scramble up several steps, more thumping and a 'fwooshing' ringing from down the stairs. Ignoring the stings, I lie on the step, peeking down; a ceiling-mounted turret buzzed to a stop, after a moment it started to carefully scan the hall.

Three doors and a bend, the hall is mostly empty - no decorations or even much of a mess; it is as if there hasn't been anyone down here in a very long time. Pull up my 10mm, I took careful aim; one, two, three, six…

The turret pops, debris falling with a 'thud'. I pull off my bag, dig through and pull a stimpack free, easily jamming it through one of the fresh holes. Immediately, I felt ease washing over - almost like magic. Sprawling to my feet, I jumped the remaining steps, and made my way to the first door on the left, a simple wood door.

Turning the knob, and pushing it open I was greeted to a loud mechanical whining, followed by a mechanical echo of some sort of propagation, "Let the Commies rest in duress, take a stance today, citizen. Authorization required. Access denied. Prepare for extermination, Communist-scum." I hopped into V.A.T.S. and was greeted to a 'Robobrain'.

Taking the time, I begin examining it; two tub-like arms, each ending with three claws, a cylindrical body, two chassis, and a glass dome with… a brain inside of it - I can only presume that it is made out of reinforced glass. It's body and much of the rest of it, are made of some sort of alloy coated in a simple, glossy brown enamel (or that might have been how it was, now, it is faded and chipped).

Four shots to the dome, eighty-six percent at best, then, dropping V.A.T.S., I begin unloading shot after shot; three found the mark causing almost no visible damage. They synthetic-mechanical voice chirped, "You are going to die, scum!" then, after several seconds of inactivity, "I am deeply sorry for your death."

A deep-red line fills the air, inches from my right shoulder - I could feel the heat radiating off it; I could hear the sizzle as it impacted the wall a mere two meters away. A second and a third popped into the wall, each slightly closer than the former. I jump to the side, taking 'pot shots' at the thing; each shot hit, either: the wall, ceiling, or the chassis. All the while, the Robobrain continued its dialogue about how I am 'scum', and that it is sorry for ending my existence (and for being scum).

I activated V.A.T.S. one last time, placing all my shots in the dome; two to the dome, one to the chassis, and two to the wall. Quickly reloading, I knew I wouldn't have to check on it, the obvious threats made it readily apparent that it survived. As soon as the the magazine locked into place, one of those intense fiery-red lines found a home within the small, metal handgun - it began shifting and contorting, smoking while it changed into something unlike anything I'd seen before. A tangy, almost putrid smell began to flood my senses; it took everything I had not to get some distance from the smell.

My free hand found my nose, while my eyes wandered over the solid clump of junk in my hand; then, I found my eyes checking out the robot. That should have been as far as that went, but no, using all my strength, I threw the amalamate gun at the robot - it landed with a 'thunk', though, I didn't see where it hit.

A resounding pop echoed through the hall, something seemed to have happened to the robot, and the sudden wail was my hint. "Oh, God! What am I doing? Please, run away while you still can get away… and while you're at it, die!" I couldn't begin to explain just how wrong that happened to be at that moment.

With my back to the wall, and the doorframe to my left, I pulled out my shotgun; braced myself, and jumped into view, firing as soon as the hairs were aligned. The mechanical monstrosity popped in a puff of acrid smoke, and a churning came from its innards.

With that out of the way, I was able to search the room, and, luckily, nothing else was in there - the compass can really come in handy. Scanning the room for the contents, I found that it didn't contain much; several lockers (left open), a chest (left open), and a small metal box (rectangular). Examining the box, it was brown with white lettering on the sides - nothing important - after several seconds of fiddling, I managed to pop the top open.

Inside I found sixteen 12 gauge rounds, perfect for the path leading forward. Walking around the rest of the room, I was able to find several items, and, after careful consideration, I helped myself to a few select materials. A moment later, and at least twenty pounds of mostly garbage; including something called a 'toaster'.

Heading back into the corridor, down towards the next door; I somehow also noticed that a few scraps from the turret had rolled farther down the hall. (I didn't piece it together, but the halls all have a slight dip to them.) Upon reaching the door, it slid open with a 'woosh', and I held my gun at the ready. However, to my dismay, the room was empty. And not that 'nearly finished bottle, empty, but the 'dry as a bottle laying in the sun for two centuries' empty.

It didn't take long for me to figure out where to go after that; the only way to go: down. The quiet taps of footfalls, and the ever-so-slight rising and falling of my chest - a silencing deafness; absolute and consuming. By the tenth step, I was able to see into the closest parts of the next floor. One and a half meters (about five feet) from the base step lay the remains of a large being - roughly as tall as Kyle - with several small miscellaneous items rested around it, including some type of uniform haphazardly wrapped around the torso.

Inspecting the items, I was able to find a rifle, but it wasn't like anything I'd seen before: box shaped, dull and diluted greys, a wire which ran along the top of the barrel, a stock with three differing holes, and a large cylindrical battery. Inspecting it further, I found several small scratch marks etched into the right side of the stock, together they formed a coherent name: Randel Colère. Dropping my shotgun, I picked up the strange rifle, and held it close and tight. After a minute or two like that, I gingerly placed it in my bag. Seven other batteries lay on the floor, scattered about here and there - into my bag they go.

Turning to the right another set of stairs. Picking up my shotgun - I really should've named it by then - I did the only reasonable thing one could have done: I absently started down the stairs. Nothing about this felt special or unique; no unusual smells, copious amounts of air, and the place is clean. Clean! Out of everything, it had to be clean! Why couldn't it have been a mess like the rest of the world?

At the bottom, a grand stretch of a room. Eight grand pillars spaced equal distance from each other and the walls, each holding up this massive room. The walls a mixture of greens and greys; thick patches of green with eloquent trims and designs of greys. Row after row of metal cabinets, desks, and terminals. Four large mainframes - servers - sat on the far side, and in the center: a door. The door was unlike any I'd seen before - or since, for that matter - gold trimming bordering the edges and a black base, while the door itself had two arms, likely locks, crossing from one side to the next. Yet, no matter how hard I looked, I couldn't find a single access point.

Heading from terminal after terminal I accessed those that I could and skipped the ones I couldn't. There wasn't much to the terminals; generally just personal notes, conversations between two or more, or a letter to the staff. Finally, on the last terminal (naturally it was the last) I found what I was looking for, and more: a command to open the lock up top and a command to open the door against the wall.

Entering the keys for the first command, I was greeted by a message explaining the success; but when I tried the second command, I was greeted to a passcode requirement. I shook my head and made my way back upstairs, the others should be waiting…

-Transmission Tampered: Data may be altered-

-Level Up-


End file.
